Family Matters
by Amiyrasmom
Summary: Honey 'Verse What will a teenage John decide when his parents die? Will he stay with the Holmes' or will he go to live with Harry? And just what makes a family?


**Disclaimer: **_**Sherlock**_** belongs to BBC (Moffat and Gatiss) and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I just play with the characters.**

**A/N: Okay, in case no one's realized this my Sherlock is not a sociopath. He says that because he doesn't want to have to deal with people that would pity him for his true diagnosis. He has Asperger's which is a form of Autism. According to my research they don't even classify it as Asperger's anymore but I prefer that term. It's a condition that I had never heard of before until my nephew was diagnosed with Autism. I did all the research I could and found Asperger's which fits my nephew and Sherlock though my nephew is only eight. Sherlock doesn't have all the indicators of Asperger's (he's graceful instead of clumsy) but no one ever fits all of the symptoms do they? None of this is truly relevant to any of the stories in the Honey 'Verse just thought you should all know. Enjoy the story.**

Fifteen year old John Watson sat on his bed in his best suit staring at his hands. He didn't cry. He didn't sob. He only stared down at his hands resting in his lap. He could hear nothing, see nothing, and focus on nothing except the thoughts swirling in his head and his hands.

"John?" The quiet voice came from the doorway to his bedroom but for once John didn't hear it. Sherlock shifted in the hallway and frowned. John always answered him. "John?" Again John didn't move. Now Sherlock was worried. This wasn't like his friend. Casting one last concerned glance at the teenager still unmoving he left the bedroom.

Sherlock raced down the corridors of the manor to where he knew his mother was in the family parlour speaking with Harriet. "Mother?" Sherlock interrupted breathlessly. "Mother, something—"

"Haven't you learned not to interrupt people yet, twerp?" Harry's asked snidely.

Sherlock glared at her. "It's important."

Harry rolled her eyes. "Nothing is more important than the conversation your mother and I are having right now."

Sherlock swung his gaze to his mother and then back to Harry and scowled. "It's not. You can't take John away. He needs to stay here where we can take care of him. Now, shut up, Harry. Mother—"

"You shut up, Sherlock!" Harry shot back. "Our parents were just buried. John needs to be with family. Not playing at being your pet."

Sherlock glared fiercely at her before turning back to his mother. "Something is wrong—"

"You can't just keep him here and expect him to grieve when he has to play with you all the time. Besides he needs to learn to make his own way in the world and not be insulated from it here." Harry continued.

"John—"

"He is not your toy, Sherlock! Mother and Father may have been all right with allowing you to take over his life but I know that you'll get tired of him eventually and then throw him away and where will he be then?"

"SHUT UP, you EVIL HAG!" Sherlock finally screamed at the top of his ten year old lungs. "Something's wrong with him and you won't let me fetch Mother! Who has his best interests in mind? Certainly not you!"

Viola placed a hand on her son's flushed cheek to turn his head toward her. "What's wrong with John, Sherlock?"

"I don't know!" Sherlock said hotly. "He's sitting on his bed, staring at his hands and not moving! He didn't answer me when I called to him and he _always _answers me."

Viola rose to her feet and took Sherlock's hand. "Come along, Harriet. We shall go have a talk with John. Moving in with you or staying here will be his decision. None of us will influence him in any way, Sherlock. He must decide for himself."

"He's still legally a child and with my parents dead he's my responsibility." Harry countered.

"Perhaps but Hamish and Cecelia would have wanted us to share custody of John, Harriet, as I'm sure you are well aware."

"Since they didn't leave a will then we'll never know will we?"

"John will stay here," Sherlock insisted as he tried to pull his mother faster down the hallway to John's bedroom. "He likes living with us. He always has."

"That's because he doesn't know anything else, twerp," Harry muttered. "He needs to get out of here and see the real world."

"Stop it, both of you." Viola scolded. They had reached John's bedroom and he didn't need to hear the two of them bickering. "John, sweetie?" Viola knocked softly on the open door but John didn't even twitch.

"I told you!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Something's wrong with him." He stomped past the two women and poked John's shoulder. "John?"

John looked up then and drew a shuddering breath. His hazel eyes were dark with pain as they gazed at Sherlock. "Did you need something, Sherlock?"

Sherlock eyed him shrewdly for a moment while Harry muttered behind him. "Yes," he finally said. "I need you to tell me what's wrong. You're not acting right."

"God!" Harry exploded behind him. "Do you have no feelings at all? Our. Parents. Just. Died. Of course Johnny's not acting right! This is why he needs to come live with me! You can't expect him to be normal when he spends all of his time with that little sociopath."

"What's a sociopath?" Sherlock asked, always hungry for knowledge.

"I'll explain it later, Sherlock," John promised. "Harry! Don't call him that. Just because he doesn't understand doesn't mean he doesn't feel the same as we do." He pulled Sherlock between his knees and looked into his eyes. "I'm sad, Sherlock. I miss my mum and dad. I'm not acting like I usually do because I'm sad and I'm scared and I'm worried and I don't know how I feel really right now."

Sherlock cocked his head to the side and considered his friend. "Why are you scared and worried, John? You should only be sad and maybe angry that they left you."

"Oh I don't know," Harry sneered. "Where he's going to live? How he's going to afford college? Where he's going to finish secondary school? How long until he has to leave? He's got nothing at all to be worried or scared about, does he?"

John shot her an angry glare and then turned back to Sherlock. "That's part of it but it's more too. My parents are gone. There will be no more Christmases with Mum singing carols from October until February. There won't be any more fishing trips with Dad. There are so many things that I'll miss and it scares me. What if I hate Christmas because I can't hear Mum? What if fishing becomes boring because Dad's not there making stupid jokes?" He closed his eyes and shook his head before they sprang open and real fear filled them. "Leave?" He whispered. "I have to leave?"

"No," Viola started but Harry cut her off.

"I want you to come live with me, Johnny." Harry told him. "You need the stability that only family can provide."

Viola entered the room and sat down beside John on the bed. She took one of his hands in both of hers. "John, we would love to have you stay here. You are a part of our family and always have been. We would still love you if you went to stay with Harriet though. It is your choice, sweetie."

Harry huffed from the doorway but everyone ignored her and the shadow carrying an umbrella behind her.

John looked from Viola down to Sherlock who had remained amazingly silent and then back to Viola. "I would like to stay here, Aunt Vi. I love Harry, she's my sister, but this is home."

"Jo—" Mycroft pulled Harry away before she could finish the first word of her protest. No one in the room noticed or if they did they gave no indication.

"I do have one condition, Aunt Vi," Mycroft and Harry heard as he pulled her down the hallway. "I'll figure out how to pay for university myself."

Mycroft pulled Harry into one of the spare bedrooms and glared at her. "Why are you protesting this Harriet?"

"Because it isn't right!" Harry yelled. "John is not part of your family and keeping him trapped here where he'll always think that he is isn't going to do him any good."

"John chooses to stay here," Mycroft pointed out. "He is family. Perhaps not of blood but of something far more important. He is family because we choose him to be. You could have had the same and you rejected us. I have never understood why."

"Because my family served yours, Mycroft! My parents were nothing more than glorified servants and I wanted more than that for me and for my brother."

"How dare you?" Mycroft hissed. "Aunt Cece and Uncle Hamish were not servants! How dare you demean their memory when they haven't even been buried for a full twelve hours? Get out of my house, Harriet Watson."

Harry backed up a step and glared at Mycroft. "You don't know anything, Mycroft. I can care for John better than you ever could."

The fire of anger in Mycroft's eyes died and a small, smug smile creased his lips. "Really, Harriet? And how do you expect to get John off to school in the mornings when you are so hung over that you can barely stagger into the bathroom to vomit? How will you make sure John finishes his homework when you're so drunk that you can't even bring the glass to your mouth without spilling half the contents?"

Harry swallowed. "How do you know all that? Never mind. It doesn't matter. I'll fight you with everything I have to get custody of my brother."

Mycroft's cruel smile grew. "Be my guest. Fight us and make John hate you. Right now, John doesn't know about the drinking. He has only a small inkling of how bitter and unhappy you have always been. Right now, you're still his older sister. An older sister that he looks up too and loves. Do you think he'll still feel that way later when you've tried to force him to leave his home? His family? Leave things as they are and he will never need to know."

Harry swallowed again then whirled out of the room and out of the house. She grabbed the bottle of scotch she kept in the glove compartment, took a swig and then drove off into the night. She never did fight the Holmes for custody of John. A few months later she met Clara and for a while the hole inside of her was filled. Then one day without warning it came back and grew bigger and bigger until nothing but alcohol could fill it.


End file.
